Lucky
by Scar of hope
Summary: Azula was born lucky/Zuko was lucky to be born. Does not comply with the promise or the search.
1. Born Lucky

Don't own.

He is scared.

It is not an easy things to admit, clad in the robes and headpiece of the Fire Lord, as nervous doctors and flustered nurses skitter away from him like rodents. Fire Lord Zuko the Peacemaker, Firebending Teacher of the Avatar himself; people averted their eyes in his presence, such was his aura of authority. But right now, the metal door cold beneath his hands, he was just Zuko, a twenty-year-old who had been forced to grow up too fast, who avoided this topic like it was a virulent disease. He was every bit a coward when it came to Azula.

That Agni Kai had killed him. He would never say it aloud, but every movement, every strike had violated his being straight to the core because it was _wrong and this was his baby sister_.

Azula had been Sozin's great-granddaughter; Zuko was Roku's great-grandson. And their legacy had been the war of Sozin and Roku's bloodlines reborn. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

He couldn't look at her, broken and screaming and _crying_; he had sent her away, too afraid to face the little sister in a broken body and a cracked soul that he did not even begin to know how to fix. He did not think about her every day. He did not wake up with childish laughter echoing in his ears and the taste of salt breeze in his mouth. He did not ache for the baby sister Ozai killed. He didn't

She had asked for him.

He had her locked in a cell to be tended by strangers and she _had asked for him_ _and it was wrong, wrong, wrong._

He wanted to believe that Zula was alive – he wanted to think that the little amber-eyed girl who had thought he was the greatest thing to grace the Earth had not truly been crushed underfoot by Ozai's ambitious pride. The very thought made him sick. But he had seen her face in the Agni Kai, he had _felt _the rage and hatred and pain that had coiled from her skin like heat from stone and Zula was _gone._

She had to be gone.

Because if she wasn't, that meant it was Zula in there, his little sister, sweet, mild and gentle, not Azula, Crown Princess of the Fire Nation, Heir of Ozai, legacy of Sozin. And that might kill him.

When the door opens, he enters but he does not speak. He does not even look at her because the image of her with jagged bangs and wet eyes, breathing fire and writhing with madness is scorched so deeply into his retinas that he does not think the image will ever truly fade; to see her like that now with only burn his soul deeper.

_Zuzu_.

The voice is tiny and helpless and fragile and not Azula-who-would-kill-him but not his little sister – _he thinks maybe a little of both_ – and it hurts to hope but he does anyway and looks at her face.

There are no bars between them as there are between him and Ozai; they have not even bound her with chains. The Fire Lord in him thinks this is dangerous and foolish.

The Brother in him wants to weep with gratitude.

Because Azula-his-sister stands and stumbles once, twice, and falls into his arms with a sob and clings to him as though he is her only lifeline and salvation. She is too small and too weak and before he can think he calls for a nurse to bring clothes – _silk and royal armor, she is a princess – _and he knows why he has not visited her for five years.

He cannot leave her here.

When the light of the sun hits her skin and she smiles and Zula looks back from her face, Zuko thinks for the first time in his life that maybe he was born lucky.


	2. Lucky to Be Born

Don't own.

She is scared.

She remembers herself as a fierce, ruthless warrior, calculating and cunning in the face of danger, violent, irrational, and every bit a merciless killer. She knows her name is Azula but is feels like a misnomer, something vile and not quite right on her tongue, and she knows why nurses flee white-faced from her presence and well-trained doctors hands shake under her gaze. But now, with Zuko on the other side of the door, his indecision seeping through the grate and choking the room, she does not feel strong or cunning or merciless. She feels weak and tiny and sad and wants to be held.

That Agni Kai had been the culmination of everything she had ever prepared for, and she had lost. As she remembers the crackle of electricity at her numb, skinny fingertips(for it is merely a memory now, the way they drug her) she is wracked by a shudder that is half malicious glee and half horror.

Azula was the last descendant of Sozin; she knew that now. Zuko had carried none of Sozin's rage , only Roku's grace. She also knew that the Agni Kai had to happen, and that she had to lose. But that did not mean her fight was over.

Plagued day and night by her mothers face, and occasionally, Sozin, Ozai, Roku and ,very rarely, the un-scarred face of an eight-year-old boy who held her as though she was a child. For nearly half a decade she raged at them, feeling violated and unloved, until one of the nurse meekly suggested that if she talked to them and they truly hated her, they would leave. That was the end of the pain, but healing was almost worse.

She had asked for him.

He had been nothing and suddenly he was everything. And when her mind healed and the visions left, she was left blissfully alone and _hated it._

Hazily, she remembers the time before the pain, when choice was real and love was a tangible thing. It is a dim memory, tarnished by time, but she clings to it because she does not have that many. The times before Ozai (she finds it difficult to call him Father now, and she is not sure why) crushed her little spirit. Zuko was not a prince, she was not a princess; they were merely Zula and Zuko and she loved him. The feeling is faded with time and tarnished with rage but she clings to it, nurses it, until it grows to almost painful proportions and she is happy.

But she is afraid.

Because she had changed, and Zuko had not. She had become something vile, something she can dimly recall and fear, and he had stayed kind and gentle and she thinks maybe he is beyond her reach now.

What if he hated her?

When the door opens, the light makes her blink. She can not see him but she aches to, to see her gentle brother stare back at her with a smile, but in her mind she sees something between Zuko and Ozai, a Fire Lord, unreachable and cold, with hatred and disgust burning in his eyes. If this was what she saw, she thinks she may truly go mad. But if she can not look, she will speak.

_Zuzu_.

The syllables have been almost forgotten by her tongue, void of malice as they are, but her heart sings even as she quakes with fear and looks at his face.

Their gazes lock and she sees even more than she dared to hope because _he still loves her, _and when a hesitant, unconscious '_Oh_, _Zula_,' falls from his mouth she wants to weep with joy.

So she does.

She throws herself at him in the most un-princess-like manner she can muster, because the Princess of the Fire Nation is a murderer and she is merely Zula, Zuko's baby sister. Her legs are numb from lack of use but Zuko catches her, tears in his eyes, and rocks her like an inconsolable child. He yells something but she isn't listening because_ her brother still loves her _even though she knows she doesn't deserve it

She came a prisoner; she left the Fire Lord's sister.

When the light of the sun fully hits her face for the first time in five years, she realizes the smallest blessings are the greatest gifts. She feels lucky to be born.


End file.
